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Gracie's moans and sighs of contentment have a way of inspiring pure empathy, a deep gladness to see another lady feeling so damn good. She makes it clear that she's not in any hurry to finish herself off, which is great - great for Gracie, and pretty nice for anyone watching her, too.

One of the best things about being a human being in a civilized world is that it's not really neccesary for us to have tough hides. Good riddance, I say. I'm all for soft limbs, peach fuzz, long lines of velvety skin moving smoothly, easily over muscle - in my opinion, skin as beautiful as Saoirse's is worth the physical vulnerability. It's nice to be at the top of the food chain.

How funny - a heart flooded with empathetic emotion, a mind buzzing with righteous fury at a world which bombards us all with this paradox of aesthetic, my own body quivering with weight and gravity and doubt and defiance - and yet, a simple, uncomplicated urge in my hands, to hold a thing of beauty. My overwhelming desire to embrace you, Nio, is mitigated only by my compulsion to squeeze your tits as you turn off the camera.

When you're as talented a smut-maker as our lovely Frannie, here, it's important to turn the cameras on yourself, once in awhile - if only to know what it's like on that side of the lens. But I suspect Frannie has another motivation for this little morning sesh. If she's anything like me, there's only one way to make sure she can stay professional during those long days of shooting - and it ain't banana pancakes.

As beautiful as Edie's contours are under the studio lights, and as hot as it is to watch her as she curls her body in tight to take even more of that deep penetration, all I can think about is how wrinkled-up her poor fingertips must be getting. Fortunately for Edie, such finicky concerns are the last thing on her mind.

Knowing her ways by now, I always anticipate Immie's orgasm, tensing for impact - the way her pleasure can rend itself violently from her body, audibly and visibly powerful. So seeing her vulnerable in front of the window, supporting her body in that half crouch, muscles trembling - well, I'm just glad she didn't smack her head, or fall back through that window glass. The things we do for thrills, eh, Immie?

Zosha's evident sensitivity gives me the impression that her senses are expanded beyond the boundaries of her skin, so that each movement of her body effects her exponentially. The escalation of her breathing is powerfully evocative. With each new gasp, her level of arousal is more and more obvious, marking her progression steadily until she tips gracefully over the edge.

Nio's bum is very, very round. She likes to touch it. Chicken wire in front of the lens makes me feel bound to the frame, forced to stare into it. Fascination. Bare skin on lube-covered lino makes fart noises due to suction. Lust. Blue-handed girls have blue-tinged cunts, and when Nio comes, she is louder than a commercial airliner. All else fades from significance.

Gracie's orgasm seems to come on her like a separate entity, gathering in her middle and claiming her, limb by limb, until she is fully possessed. Her movements inspire me to think of orgasms in an entirely new way - as if waves of pleasure might be gathered and waiting in spaces all around us, just waiting around for us to call them.

AnnabelleLee isn't going easy on Strawberry - working over that soft flesh with a confident agression belied by Annabelle's small form. Watching the kind of sex these two are engaging in feels beyond voyeuristic, as AnnabelleLee effectively strips and pounds and bites Strawberry's defenses away - leaving her vulnerable and open, and completely at Annabelle's mercy.

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